


Eros Turannos (Love the Tyrant)

by Talicor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talicor/pseuds/Talicor
Summary: A collection of ficlets from my blog (@eatyourgrapes) centered around the universe's greatest power couple, ranging everywhere from fluff to angst (probably)





	Eros Turannos (Love the Tyrant)

“The rift is quite stunning this time of day, isn’t it.”

“It’s half past midnight, Zarkon.”

“I—of course… A simple mistake.”

True to the nature of Daibazaal, however,  the sky hung in eternal twilight, perhaps just a few shades dimmer than the average day cycle.  Were it not for the silent displays of Galran numerals accounting for each passing dobash, the blunder would very possibly go unnoticed in the right frame of mind.

Looking up from the analytic data continuously pouring in on her monitor, Honerva said nothing. Allowing the quiet to settle into gentle comfort between them, she set golden eyes on his looming frame, the emperor’s gaze taken by the shimmering allure of the rift beyond.

_What damnable armor…_

Brushing the moment’s weakness aside, surprise caught her as alien eyes met her own, Zarkon undoubtedly sensing her quiet inspection.

“Something I can help you with, Honerva?” His tone was quiet and… Strangely soft to her ears.

_Perhaps it is just the emptiness of the room_ … Another dismissed thought, and she shook her head, looking back to the spread of screens.

“Nothing, Your Majesty. A mere slip of concentration, nothing more.”

“…Ah.” The word is halting—stilted even—as it forces its way from his jagged lips, his gaze stuttering in its slow tear from her face, “I see…” _It’s a formal day_ … Leaving the rest of his comment unsaid, Zarkon turned his back to the woman, not standing quite so proudly as before.

“I misspoke.” Giving voice to the creeping feeling in her chest at the sudden wilted air around the other, Honerva found herself ignoring the screens before her once again.

“No—no, you were fine.” Bringing his stance in a little more, massive hands clasped at the emperor’s back, hidden well by his cloak. “Absolutely fine, Honerva… To address me by title is… Proper… In most circumstances.”

“In _most_?” The words carried a tilt to her head, something sparking in the way his shoulders squared, almost like he were preparing to take on an unseen burden.

“In most, yes…” Glancing downward, Zarkon busies himself with looking at his hands, inspecting the broad, sharp shapes of his fingers, “It’s been quite some time since I last heard it from you… I’d quite taken a liking to my name in your voice.”

_Oh_.

Clearing her throat, Honerva found herself at his side, though she didn’t recall a single moment between looking away from the screen and winding up next to him.

“So what you’re saying is—“

“I thought we were closer than titles.”

Lips pursing a moment at his breathy words, the alchemist bowed her head, if only to gaze at the shimmering rift below.

“Well, then…” She began with a slight tremble in her voice, “If you’d allow me, I’d like to perform a final test for the night… It won’t take long.” It was a feeble attempt, she knew, but the thrum of dissatisfaction coming off of him was palpable.

Finally breaking his gaze from the quiet inspection he’d taken up before, he met her gaze with an alien blink of sliding membranes over eyes of vivid yellow and piercing red.

“Go on.”

Quietly licking her lips, Honerva squared her slim shoulders and turned on her heel as quickly as she’d come, eyes roving with incessant need around the lab.

“Stay right there.”

_Has to be around here somewhere…_

Attention caught by a nearby desk against the wall, Honerva picked up her pace—footsteps light all the while—and took hold of the back of an empty chair. Pushing it over on silent hover discs, she didn’t look up to see whether or not Zarkon was staring her antics down or not. 

Not a word escaped the Galra, his stance perfectly still in obedience to her command—due to curiosity more than anything, no doubt. Stopped at his feet with the chair still in her grip, she kept her focus downward in favor of watching her hands as she stepped up onto the seat. 

“Careful—“ Catching her soft gasp as the hover chair slipped beneath her straightening stance, Zarkon closed in with supporting hands in an instant, giving her a stable grip. “—I don’t need you hurting yourself.”

Only able to swallow, Honerva lifted her gaze from the ornamentation on his chest to meet a look of concern.

“Surely.. I’d survive something more than a mere slip.”

“You’d be surprised how much a life can be affected by something so simple.” Lifting a brow in knowing amusement, he took the opportunity to shift a little closer, their faces nearly level.

_Such wondrous eyes…_  

Caught in the observation for a moment, Honerva said nothing, their gazes locked in this new proximity. 

“I suppose, of all people, should find agreement in that… But as a being of science it would be foolish of me to assume all _slips_ are destined to have poor outcomes.”

“Oh is _that_ so…” Slender ears flicking behind his crown, Zarkon swallowed, finding now their breath mingling between them in warm rhythm. “You did mention an experiment earlier, I suppose it wouldn’t be too much to ask for details on that particular subject now, would it?”

A smile opened her expression, her delicate hands taking rest on his broad shoulders.

“No.. I suppose it wouldn’t.”

Distance closed in less than a breath, she found the taste of him rather metallic.


End file.
